Marriage isn't for who? You said "you" meaning me. That is incorrect.

Marriage Isn't For You

http://sethadamsmith.com/2013/11/02/marriage-isnt-for-you/

I keep seeing the above article pop up on social media.  Please go read it.  Go ahead.  I'll wait.  

Intermission music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hmDZz5pDOQ

I can't grow big and strong anymore...

I know what are you are thinking. You are thinking about a penis. One that is no longer able to stay hard. One that's sad and floppy. Well, that's not what I'm talking about here, guy. Let me explain...

Remember when you were a kid and people told you that your body was going to grow into giant? Your mom, doctor, or whoever would tell you to drink milk, eat vegetables and exercise so that you could grow big and strong. You thought time was your best friend; with each day making you bigger and more powerful. Every day you increased your ability to run faster, climb higher, lift more, and ultimately be reckoned with among the other humans in your daily life. There was no limit to what you could do, and you never saw a year that didn't reveal your strides in growth. There was no evidence shown to your body that this could end.  

Well friends, that time is over in your 20s. You peak. You can't be any better of an athlete than during this age. Most of us can train us to be quicker and stronger in our 30s or beyond, but not as much as you were able in your 20s. Granted, we do grow wiser, and guys--we do grow more handsome--but we can start to see that our body doesn't preform athletically as well as we have been expecting it to. Sad times.

This leads me to the point of this script that I'm writing: Why at the age of 28, do I still work out?

Sure there are some of the readily explainable reasons such as the vanity of wanting to look good, the health aspect of wanting to take care of my well-being, the desire to do well in a sport, and of course the demands to attract a mate. But after some contemplation I think that the true reason is that I cannot let go of wanting to grow and be strong. 

I refuse to let go of the agility and power that I have maintained for so long. I work out to keep that ability alive; to still be able to push myself to do the things that I have always done. The sad reality is that time is not my best friend anymore in that light. I'm fighting time, I'm battling what it does to my muscles and reflexes by training them. I may be foolish, but I still want to be able to sprint after that football, climb that tree, balance on that board, hike that mountain, and be big and strong. I've reached as "big and strong" as I can be. I'm not ready to descend off of that plateau. 

Think about it

Oh this life. This society. Look what it does!

We are so bored with peeing and pooping that we have to pull out our phone to just kill the time while our bowels move. No no, forget the notion of there being any fascination with the fact that we put food in ourselves, and in all of its complexity and wonder, it gives us strength and energy, leaving us as waste. No appreciation whatsoever.

So what am I talking about here? Am I suggesting that we should have rejuvenated sense of awe in our pee and poop? Maybe. I mean, it's the thought that counts right? 

What about the distance that civilization has gone to where tiny fractions of a percentage of people even know how the fundamentals of our technology works? If it were to all go away, do you know someone who could re-invent and build your LCD TV for you? Restart cell phones and wi-fi services? Hell, even build a combustible engine for a car? Who? You sir? No, I think not. You are but a small, insignificant person.

Now "What is he blathering about?" you say. "Is he saying that we all need to learn fundamental mechanics and take apart our cell phones and iPads to see what pieces there are?" Of course I'm not. Besides, those little chunks of metal are wired with microscopic precision and hold data. They aren't just bits of metal. The solution in such a scenario would be to rebuild the robots and computers that design such things. And all of this isn't my point either. 

My point is that there are poor folks. Yes, people...millions of them without such distractions and devices. People that truly know suffering and would long to have the boredom that our society has created for us. We have much, and there are so many out there with too little. With this Advent Season, or for you lay-minions, Holiday Season, think about those less fortunate for just a few minutes. Ponder their troubles. Forget why they are there and who's fault it is. Do you not feel compassion? Do you feel no sympathy for them? Any desire to help? Whoa, any selfish want of self-righteousness that at least compels you to "be a better person" or want to be seen doing something for the betterment of human kind? 

Think about that while you drone through your routine of working all day, doing whatever needs to be done to call it "work", driving back on your commute, making yourself your worn-out chicken and vegetable dish, and watching perpetual seasons of scummy unoriginal television shows until upon the edge of drooling yourself to sleep you fall into bed...only to start the routine again the next day. Think about that! Don't be molded by society, mold yourself. Unless, you are like, totally okay with the former.

Carve and Drink

For two years now, sometime in the month in October I've headed to the Old Monk off of Henderson St in Dallas for pumpkin carving and a drink or two.



I can't speak for the costume party on the weekend before Halloween, but the Pumpkin Carving and Pint deal is amazing. For $10 you can get a pumpkin and a pint of any of their many beers that are under $6. This includes the likes of Guiness and Stella Artois, which is good enough for me. Another perk I'd add is that they clean your pumpkin out for you; all you have to do is carve the face--which to outdo themselves even more--the Old Monk provides you with a toolkit set and a number of stencils to choose from. Furthermore, your $10 is matched by the bar and donated to the North Texas Food Bank, a good cause no doubt.

I highly recommend this fun activity to anyone that can partake, as this is one of the few instances that it is fun to see adults behaving like children and doing silly crafts. Here is a photo of my Jack o' lantern. Suck it.

BREAKING NEWS: MAN LOSES FINGERS TO AUTHORITARIAN FANTASY FOOTBALL LEAGUE COMMISSIONER

BIP WOOTEN of Hawtgoob, PA lost 4 fingers and a thumb on or around the evening of the 1st of October 2013. "I had it coming, I read the by-lines and knew that my paw was at stake with this fantasy football league." 


Wooten's tragic loss of the use of his right hand was at the expense of not paying his league dues on time. "Well, I had 5 weeks to send the check and I actually saw my commissioner in person a couple of times, so I had my opportunities to save my #$&%ing fingers..." continues Wooten, "...the commish even says to me: 'Hey Bip, listen here, and listen good: I'm going to cut off your #$&%ing fingers the next time I see you if you don't pay your dues. I'm tired of your lazy non-committal attitude. So if you don't get your act straight, I'm going to take your fingers and feed them to your dogs.'"

Figuring the dues might just float away and somehow make it magically into the money pool, Wooten, now regrets what was an easily fixable condition. The fantasy football leaguer, team-named the Rochester Twinballs, is now thinking of renaming his team "Bip's Stub Clap". "I thought it was kinda funny you know? I wanted to make light of the situation of me now having a stub for a hand. I can't even make a proper clap of my hands anymore. I mean, my children think I'm a monster now and scream at the site of me and Stink Fist." 'Stink Fist' is the name Wooten calls his atrocity for a hand.

Wooten's choices now make things like wiping after a poo, opening a can of beer, playing the banjo, and waving--a whole new adjustment. "I don't even want to fist-bump the guy." says friend Nack Grenshaw. "He's always trying to pretend everything's okay and normal, but the fact his, he has this horrendous nub for a hand, and it freaks us all out. He's always talking about Stink Fist and how he gives him 'adventures' by taking him into dark places. If he doesn't get some sort of prosthetic, I'm seriously considering not being his friend anymore."

Later in this report we found out that Wooten has to this day still not paid his dues. Stay tuned for our possible follow up story with Bip "no-hands" Wooten.

Ballast Point YellowTail Pale Ale

Damn it if that's not the longest titty of a title for a beer. And damn it all if this isn't one of the most overrated beers that I've had in a while.

The YellowTail Pale Ale isn't awful, just like cookies with raisins aren't awful. There's some good in there, but the fact that some squirrel dick put raisins in an otherwise delicious cookie, ruins a good thing. I'll add to the fact that Ballast Point mislabeled their beer:

• The YellowTail is made with German hops used in a typical Kölsch.
• The beer uses German malts to create the 11-16 range gravity defined for a Kölsch.
• This "Pale Ale" is warm-fermented and then cold-conditioned...guess what...just like a Kölsch.

This is a Kölsch in my mind. It tastes like a Kölsch. I like typing Kölsch. So go Kölsch yourself. I don't know if Ballast Point would name their Kölsch after a fish. For some reason a pale ale is fitting for a fish...maybe because it's more bitter. But this isn't bitter. 

The YellowTail is having an identity crisis. But you will be disappointed if you were actually hoping for an ale. So, go on, drink this lie of a beer. Just like those raisin cookie inventors are lying treat-bakers.

And he hits a nubber back to the pitcher...

What do you say now?!

In the sport of baseball, there exists a routine of sayings and idioms that are meant to encourage your teammates. Outside of the context of the game, these phrases can be interpreted as anything from an insane person's babble to sexual innuendos. In fact, only ball players or people very close to the game will read or hear these lines and know exactly what it is referring to.

Here is a list of some of the sayings I'm referring to...feel free to add your own sexual metaphors:

"Rip his tits!"

"Good eye"

"Pound that zone!"

"He's throwin gas"

"Hey that's not yours! Leave that alone"

"Eat it!"

"Protect up there"

"Way to battle up there!"

"Get out ball!"

"I like it there, keep it down there"

"Come on man, touch em all"

"Look alive out there"

"Now you've seen it"

"Sit on it now"

"That's trouble!"

"Hey, straighten that out"

"That was right down the cock!"

"Stay hot"

"Hey good idea there"

"He's gotta come to you now"

"Way to get your hand in there!"

"Hey lets get a base-knock here"

"Throw him some cheese!"

"You've got the come-backer"

"Roll it up the middle"

"Throw him a chair"

"Boy he fisted him good!"